Chapter 20: VIP Chapters Seven and Eight

Hao Saiyun didn’t know why she lied.

Ever since she was young, she had always been the model student in the eyes of her teachers—excellent in both character and academics. No one would ever associate her with lying. Yet just now, she had lied to Jin Yang’s aunt. And not just a small lie, but a huge, ridiculous one that even she couldn’t believe she had told.

Jin Yang’s aunt had asked her if she was the girl who had been taking such meticulous care of Jin Yang. In her heart, a thousand voices screamed, It’s not me, it’s not me—it’s Lin Xiaqing! But her throat inexplicably felt like it had been struck with a strange bout of sudden laryngitis, rendering her utterly speechless.

Her silence made Jin Yang’s aunt think she was just shy and too modest to admit it. With a kind smile, the aunt said, “Good girl. Jin Yang’s in an unfamiliar place here in He County. To have met such a kind and upright friend like you is truly his good fortune.”

Saiyun’s face burned. In front of Jin Yang’s aunt, she couldn’t say a word. The fire on her cheeks seemed to spread all over her body like a wildfire.

Jin Yang’s aunt patted her shoulder encouragingly. “Good child, I’ll remember you. If we ever meet again, I’ll treat you to a proper thank-you meal. But today won’t work—I have a dinner meeting tonight, and I’ll be rushing to catch my flight right after, so let’s do it next time.”

Saiyun, of course, knew exactly what dinner the aunt was talking about. She even knew it was being hosted on the third floor of the hospital canteen. There was a luxurious private room there, reserved by her father for entertaining important guests or colleagues. The kitchen had already revised the menu several times for tonight’s welcome dinner, and even her father, the hospital director, had personally reviewed it twice.

Having studied in the capital for two years, she was the person closest to her father who knew the capital’s preferences—half a “Beijing insider.” Her father had asked if the dishes would suit Beijing tastes, and she’d made some tweaks—removing two seafood dishes unpopular in Beijing and adding an authentic Beijing-style hotpot dish instead. Even though it wasn’t winter and finding the right pot was difficult, she insisted on an old-fashioned copper pot with dual handles. The sauce for the lamb was also complicated, requiring fermented bean curd paste and chive flower mash. It gave the kitchen staff quite a headache.

Saiyun felt like she had gone crazy. In front of Jin Yang’s aunt, she had turned into a mute, while her mind spun like a carousel. One moment, she thought of Jin Yang in his hospital bed—so talented, so handsome, with a background that was the least impressive thing about him. The next moment, she thought about the prosperous capital that everyone yearned for. Only the rarest of the rare could stay in Beijing after graduation.

Everyone knew how great the capital was, but not everyone had the qualifications to stay.

Every time she thought about these things, her heart became a mess. So chaotic she couldn’t open her mouth to explain the praise and admiration that didn’t belong to her.

Even after Jin Yang’s aunt left, she couldn’t utter a single word to clarify that the girl who had taken such good care of Jin Yang—the one who earned all that admiration—was not her, but Lin Xiaqing.

It was a beautiful misunderstanding. But it was also a sharp, unforgivable mistake.

To Saiyun, fate had handed her Jin Yang, a favored son of heaven—and at the same time, handed her a sharp blade. For the sake of a distant, beautiful dream, she found herself, unknowingly, plunging that blade into her own chest.

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When Lin Xiaqing went to retrieve the car for Jin Yang, trouble awaited her. More precisely, she ran into the source of that trouble—Ma Zi.

Anyone could see that Ma Zi had been forced to come by County Chief Lu. His face was full of reluctance, his eyes burning with a fire that looked like it wanted to eat someone alive. Lin Xiaqing felt like she needed sunglasses just to deal with him. His arrogant and impatient demeanor was a blight on the eyes.

Ma Zi’s real name was Lu Jincheng. County Chief Lu clearly believed in the old adage “sincerity can break through stone,” which was probably why he kept sending his good-for-nothing son to come grovel before Jin Yang. Even today, when the car was ready, Lu Jincheng had been ordered to accompany the delivery.

The stitches on Lu Jincheng’s forehead had already been removed. The scar, which looked like a centipede, was the best this small county’s surgery team could do. In this era, there were no cosmetic stitches or laser treatments. Otherwise, his most troublesome features—his scar and pockmarks—could’ve been easily handled.

This time, Lin Xiaqing finally got a good look at him. Actually, he wasn’t that ugly. His skin was just rough. His features were decent underneath. With a vice-county-chief father, his appearance couldn’t have been too terrible, or he wouldn’t have made it into the position. Lu Jincheng wasn’t handsome, but also not hideous—just barely passable.

Lin Xiaqing bore him no personal grudge, but Ma Zi didn’t see it that way. She was here on Jin Yang’s behalf, so to him, she was part of “the enemy.” Just thinking of his two sworn brothers, who were about to be executed, filled him with resentment toward her as well.

His face showed no friendliness, and he spoke with repressed rage: “The car’s ready. Director Tang will go over it with you. If there’s a problem, he’ll fix it right away. If not, I’ll drive it back to the hospital—or wherever you want it.”

Xiaqing wasn’t about to reveal that a “village girl” like her could drive. She knew her role and played it well. She circled the car, bent down to look inside, touched the paint. That was enough of a performance.

She wasn’t being careless with Jin Yang’s car—just cautious. She trusted that Ma Zi wouldn’t sabotage it right away, and Director Tang, the mechanic, was putting his own reputation on the line. Even if Ma Zi had tampered with the car, Tang would’ve corrected it already.

They say sharing a room brings bonds. Xiaqing, who had been in the same hospital room as Jin Yang, decided she’d double-check the car herself—late at night, before Jin Yang left for Beijing.

Better safe than sorry.

Ma Zi drove the car back to the hospital with Xiaqing in the backseat. They didn’t speak, and she was about to doze off when he glanced at her in the rearview mirror and said with a sneer, “What are you to Jin Yang? Or should I ask, how did you get close to him?”

He was beginning to suspect maybe his father had arranged her.

Jin Yang was half-disabled—surely someone had to care for him. And this girl was quite pretty. Scratch that—very pretty. Though her clothes were plain, her face was eye-catching. A real beauty. And beauties without wealthy backgrounds were usually easy to control and very good at serving others. Jin Yang sure was lucky.

Ma Zi ogled her through the mirror and thought his dad’s “honey trap” idea was brilliant.

Xiaqing ignored him. He was vulgar and disgusting—no wonder Jin Yang had punched him. Clearly, the man hadn’t learned his lesson.

“Still mute?” he snapped, smacking his tongue and spitting out the window. “I’m talking to you.”

Xiaqing frowned. “I’m just someone who shares a hospital room with Jin Yang. Show some respect.”

Why was it so hard for men to learn to respect women?

That finally sparked a memory for Lu Jincheng. He vaguely remembered her being present when he went to provoke Jin Yang.

He laughed. “Nice car, huh? One day I’ll get one too.”

Xiaqing turned away, reclining to nap, signaling she had no interest in entertaining him.

But Lu Jincheng wouldn’t quit. “I’ll pay you—how about being my informant?”

She squinted at him. What the hell was this lunatic thinking?

“If you’re not with Jin Yang or my dad, no one will suspect you. You poison Jin Yang, and no one will trace it back to me. Hahaha.” He was clearly joking, but maliciously so.

Xiaqing opened her clear, sharp eyes. “How much?”

Lu Jincheng froze. Hit the brakes.

“How much would you pay?” she asked with a chilling smile.

He broke out in goosebumps despite the July heat.

Interesting, he thought. This woman is interesting. Seemingly harmless, but sharp as a knife. Was that blade ever turned on Jin Yang?

Xiaqing lazily kicked the back of his seat. “If Jin Yang’s life is worth that much to you, sure, I’ll play along. If not, shut up and drive. I’m sleeping.”

He’d never imagined a woman could make him go from hatred to disdain to… admiration in just an hour.

She was like a rose with thorns—beautiful from afar, untouchable up close.

Somehow, he realized that in this car, she was the boss—and he, her humble driver.

What kind of spell is this woman casting?

And she had a nose like a bloodhound. As they neared the hospital and passed a roadside stall, the scent of fried dough woke her instantly. She ordered: “Three pieces, extra dried shrimp.” Then turned to glare at Lu Jincheng, face icy cold. “None for you. Don’t even think about it.”

Lu Jincheng scoffed, “Who cares?” But his mouth moved faster than his pride, and now he was too embarrassed to go back and ask the fried cake lady for one just for himself.

After Lin Xiaoqing bought her fried cakes, she nestled back into the car, the cabin now filled with the fragrant aroma of the oil cakes, tormenting Lu Jincheng. His stomach began to rumble, hunger awakened by the scent, and he was overwhelmed with the desire to take a bite.

Cradling the hot, freshly fried cakes, Lin Xiaoqing let out a satisfied sigh. “It’s been so long since I had fried oil cakes wrapped in newspaper. That’s how we had them when we were kids — a whole sheet cut into little squares to wrap the piping-hot cakes. No one cared about hygiene back then; we just ate them happily!”

Lu Jincheng swallowed hard, wanting to throttle her talkative mouth.

When the car arrived back at the hospital, a security guard directed him to park in a reserved spot.

Lu Jincheng was in such a rush it was as if he were being reincarnated—he didn’t even straighten the tires before disappearing, not saying a word about where he was going.

By the time he hurried back to the fried cake stand, panting and drenched in sweat, the vendor was already packing up, extinguishing the coal stove.

He’d noticed earlier that there wasn’t much batter left in her bucket and had worried the last few cakes might get sold. But even with his mad dash, he still missed out.

The vendor, now done cleaning, took off her sleeves and said kindly, “Back for more, young man? Didn’t three cakes satisfy you two? I’m all sold out today. Come back tomorrow!”

Few people drove private cars back then, so the vendor immediately recognized his face and assumed he was with that woman who had bought the cakes.

Lu Jincheng gritted his teeth in fury and snapped, “Old woman, get your facts straight—I didn’t buy anything! What do you mean ‘again’? And who says I’m with that vixen?”

He remembered now—it was all Jin Yang’s fault. That Lin Xiaoqing had been corrupted by him, and now they both ganged up on him. Even a measly fried cake felt like bullying!

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The oil cakes were scalding. When Lin Xiaoqing got out of the car, her hands were too full to close the door, so she kicked it shut with her foot.

She had caught the vendor just before closing, so the last few cakes were especially stuffed with filling. Lin Xiaoqing was utterly thrilled.

Her sharp eyes caught sight of a prime parking spot behind the hospital, where several black Hongqi-brand government cars bearing Lu-A plates were parked — clearly vehicles from provincial authorities.

She quickly surmised that provincial officials had escorted Jin Yang’s aunt to He County.

Jin Yang had mentioned his aunt would be visiting the hospital sometime soon.

Judging by the imposing official vehicles and the unusually high tension among the hospital staff — the nurses seemed to be on high alert like they’d received some top-level instruction — she guessed his aunt was visiting today. On her way to fetch breakfast earlier, she’d noticed how the ward had been freshly cleaned. It all added up.

Perhaps it was no coincidence. The county magistrate had arranged for the car inspection to take place today, and the hospital had delayed Qiao Chun-jin’s procedure until the afternoon, seemingly to clear out the room for this visit.

When Lin Xiaoqing returned to the ward, Jin Yang’s aunt was already gone. She wasn’t surprised — she and her mother would have been an obstacle to the family reunion. It was better this way; both sides had some privacy.

As always, Jin Yang had been waiting for her return. As soon as she entered, he apologized, “They moved your and Aunt Qiao’s things again. I told them not to, but while I was napping this afternoon, they sneaked in and did it anyway.”

Lin Xiaoqing disliked having others touch her belongings — maybe it was a kind of cleanliness compulsion. Especially with items like her water cup — if it left her sight, she refused to drink from it again. Maybe it was a lingering habit from her past life, having braved the world alone — she simply couldn’t trust anyone but herself. She’d even check her doorknob before entering her home.

Still, she knew the hospital staff were just doing their jobs and that her luggage had only been tidied, not ransacked. There was no need to retaliate against fellow working-class people.

Seeing her silent, Jin Yang assumed she was upset. He quickly played his trump card — he offered her a gift like a treasure: a green silk scarf.

“Hangzhou silk. Tie it around your neck — it’ll look great with your summer dresses!”

Lin Xiaoqing’s eyes lit up. Women always loved beautiful things. In her previous life, when she’d earned money, she hadn’t splurged much on luxury bags but had gone wild buying clothes — especially during seasonal changes.

She had grown up poor, always wearing relatives’ hand-me-downs. Each new season filled her with anxiety — would she have clothes to wear? If they were too short or too worn, she’d get laughed at. In remote villages, even children could be viciously cruel.

When people grow up, they often try to compensate for the things they lacked as kids. Lin Xiaoqing had lacked clothes, so as an adult, she overcompensated — once, after a large project bonus, she spent so much in one spree that the store clerk hit their monthly sales target just from her.

There was a movie from the 2000s, starring Cecilia Cheung, that perfectly captured that madness — a woman sweeping through high-end stores after payday, a true shopping maniac.

But now it was the 1980s. A poor village girl was lucky to have even a few spare outfits. Lin Xiaoqing had stopped caring about fashion; survival came first. Perhaps because she’d once owned so many gorgeous clothes, she now found herself less attached to superficial things.

People obsess over what they’ve never had — but once you’ve had it, you realize it’s just stuff.

Even after selling a whole vat of soybean paste and earning enough for basic expenses, she hadn’t thought about buying herself a new outfit. But now, this scarf — a simple green silk scarf from Jin Yang — had stirred her cravings again.

Not all greens are equal — this one was her favorite: bud-green, with a warm yellowish tone that evoked springtime dew on willow branches by a lake. It was gentle and elegant.

For someone with fashion experience like her, a scarf wasn’t just a scarf — it could be a hair tie, a handbag accessory, or a faux collar under a coat.

She imagined wearing this green scarf draped loosely around her neck, under a creamy white cashmere coat with a wide collar and a belted waist — the green would pop against the softness of the white, a perfect balance. She already had the entire outfit in her head.

Lin Xiaoqing stared at the scarf in her hands, mesmerized. Who knew a beautiful scarf could bring such joy? In a life of material scarcity, it suddenly made things feel rich and alive.

Jin Yang, watching her dazed expression, snapped his fingers in front of her. “Looks like you really like my gift. I thought it’d look perfect on you.”

Snapping out of it, Lin Xiaoqing replied, “It’s beautiful. If I could get to Hangzhou before autumn and bring back a batch to sell, I think women here would love them. But I don’t know where to find this kind of scarf. No connections — I’d probably be lost.”

Turns out, while she had looked entranced, she had actually been planning business in her head. Jin Yang thought she’d been spellbound by the scarf’s beauty. Sigh — she was such a business-minded person.

He reminded her, “There’s an address on the box — Huaguang Silk Factory, No. 4 Zhi Street, Qiaoxi, Hangzhou. But this scarf isn’t sold publicly. It’s high-thread-count, top-tier craftsmanship, made exclusively for foreign guests.”

Excited, Lin Xiaoqing flipped the box over and saw the address.

Jin Yang hoped she’d try it on, but she carefully tucked it away and shoved the greasy fried cakes into his hand. “This kind of thing can be ruined by oil in a second. I’ll try it later.”

Jin Yang didn’t mind. “It’s just a scarf. If you like it, I can get you a hundred more. No need to treat it like a treasure.”

Lin Xiaoqing tucked it away like a treasure anyway — it was clearly rare and precious. Where was he going to get a hundred of them? Nonsense!

She didn’t know how much a scarf like this would cost in the market — but with such fine craftsmanship, it had to be at least ten yuan. Considering the average wage, few people could afford such luxury. If she wanted to sell scarves, she’d have to go with something more affordable. But she had high standards — too cheap and she wouldn’t even look at it. That might make sourcing products a challenge.

It was July now, and Shandong would start cooling down by late August. If she wanted to go to Hangzhou and buy scarves wholesale, she’d need to save up enough capital in two months. Assuming each scarf cost 2 yuan wholesale, buying 200 scarves, plus travel and lodging, would require at least 500 yuan.

So far, she’d only made a little over 100 yuan from selling soybean paste — still short by nearly 400. Not much time left.

Jin Yang took a bite of the fried cake — it reminded him of the pickled mustard green fritters made by his Jiangsu-born nanny. But the ones in He County had dried shrimp inside, giving the batter a sweet, savory flavor with extra depth.

He pointed to the other two cakes on the bedside table and said, “You should eat too — they won’t stay crispy if they get cold.”

His spiky hair shimmered in the sunlight, like little fireworks.

Lin Xiaoqing absently ran her fingers through the back of his head. His hair was thick and unruly — almost blending in with the dense summer tree canopies outside the window.

As she stroked his hedgehog-like hair, her heart softened a little. She asked gently, “Shouldn’t you get a haircut?”